


Save You

by LadySerpentine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Just something I felt like writing, M/M, pining!dean, there's no happy ending in this seriously, unresolved anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySerpentine/pseuds/LadySerpentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester's good at a lot of things. Saving people, hunting monsters, and internalising his own self loathing until it burns away every speck of happiness he has. </p><p>He's also good at running away from his problems, even when he can finally admit them to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save You

He's often done this in the past.

 

He drives long, lonely stretches of highway, listening to his cassette tapes and not saying a word. His cell phone is switched off, and for a time, it's just him, the road and the music.

 

Dean Winchester never talks about his feelings. He bottles everything up, because there are certain things men don't do, but there are also things that hunters don't do. His father made sure he learned that when he should have been learning how to play catch.

 

Men don't hit girls. Men don't crumble. Men don't cry. Men don't do anything “girly”. Men certainly don't fall in love with other men.

 

Hunters don't have homes, because that's too easy to track. Hunters don't stay in one place too long, for the same reason. Hunters don't let people get too close, because the ones you love can be used as leverage. Hunters aren't supposed to let emotions get in the way of the job.

 

Just as he's reminding himself of these rules, Nazareth's _Love Hurts_ starts up over the speakers. 

 

For once, Dean almost wishes he had his music collection on that douchey little device Sammy plays his music on, just so he could skip this one.

 

This song cuts a little too deep for his liking.

 

For him, love definitely hurts.

 

He thinks back on all the loves he's ever had, and it comes as no surprise to anyone that it's a short list. He's bedded a lot of women, but he always tries to keep it just sex. Anything else means putting his heart on the line, and people he loves have a nasty habit of dying bloody.

 

Cassie, his first real love. Lisa, his only attempt at an “apple pie” life.

 

She should have been proof that he wasn't supposed to have everything he dreamed of – nice house, safe job, someone to come home to – because it didn't  _work_ . 

 

He had tried for normal, and it ended badly.

 

He's consoled by the knowledge that at least Lisa and Ben are alive.

 

Maybe that's his fate. He's only supposed to love from afar, to save the ones he cares for by staying a million miles away from them.

 

He clenches his jaw, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

 

He can't dream of anything more. Better to keep it all inside, keep it all quiet. That way his dreams stay whole, and reality can't make them ugly.

 

No more dreaming of a home he can't have.

 

No more wishing for someone to come home to.

 

No more fond thoughts of a white picket fence, a yard, a space of his own he can fill with all the same junk normal people have – family photos, trinkets, tacky souvenirs from vacations.

 

He can't have any of that, so there's no point in wishing for it.

 

There's also no point in letting Nazareth continue to remind him of his real problem, so he angrily thumbs the eject button. The cassette pushes out of the slot, and Dean tosses it onto the passenger seat. He blindly fumbles in the crumbling cardboard box that holds his music collection until he finds a tape out of its case, and he shoves it into the tape deck. Whatever it is, it has to be better than Nazareth.

 

He groans when he realizes the replacement cassette is a worse choice – Bon Jovi.

 

On occasion, Bon Jovi rocks out loud, but tonight is not that night, and Dean is so far from in the mood of listening to anything that will feed his maudlin humor

 

He reaches out for the box again, but the road chooses that moment to throw up a pothole. The jolt knocks his cassettes into the floor well of the passenger seat, and Dean curses.

 

There's nowhere to pull over, so he'll have to suffer through Bon Jovi's pleading ballad to the one he loves for now. Then again, he thinks, there could be a silver lining to this. He can pretend the emotions he feels are as a result of the music, and blame everything on the lyrics.

 

It's awfully difficult to pretend they're not his emotions when it seems like the band set his thoughts to music.

 

He sings along, not giving a single crap that he can't keep in tune.

 

“Father father please believe me, I am laying down my guns. I am broken like an arrow, forgive me, forgive your wayward son ...”

 

He sings until tears blind him, and he pulls over in a lay-by, resting his head against the wheel and he lets himself cry.

 

He's angry at himself for breaking like this, but he's held it all in for so long he can't keep the pretense up any more.

 

He's in love.

 

He knows it's useless. He _knows_ , but he can't help himself. 

 

He vowed after he left Lisa behind that he'd _never_ let this happen again. He'd never let himself fall, but this was so gradual, so insidious that he didn't notice until it was too late. Like water seeping through limestone, there had been no hope of defending himself. His soul aches with it, his heart swells every time he even thinks of the name, but it is hopeless.

 

Cas is his best friend.

 

He's a  _dude_ , and Dean doesn't fall for dudes. 

 

Worse still, he's an angel of the lord.

 

Balthazar and Gabriel might deign to sleep with humans, but he's never seen them in love with one. Besides, he's pretty sure there's something in the Bible against angels lying with mortals, and the last thing he wants is to attract more trouble. 

 

No, it's best he keeps it to himself.

 

Besides, what would Cas do with that information?

 

Best case scenario, he'd be confused. Worst case scenario, Dean loses Castiel, because he's too stupid and selfish to keep his feelings to himself. Just because he was dumb enough to fall in love doesn't mean Cas feels the same way, and Dean doesn't want to lose the best friend he's ever had.

 

So what if Castiel was the first person to ever tell Dean that he deserves to be saved, that he's  _worthy_ ? What does it matter if those words sparked an ember in his chest that's turned into a wildfire that's threatening to consume him? It doesn't matter. He should have known that he'd love Cas eventually. He's always had a weakness for people he can rely on. Bobby became his father figure around the time he learned he couldn't rely on his dad for much at all. The Impala became his home when he realized it was the one place he would always come back to, no matter where he lay his head or where he roamed. 

 

And Cas?

 

He relies on him as the one creature in all of creation that will never let him down.

 

It's happened once or twice in the past, yeah, but that's what he gets any time he relies on people.

 

Didn't make it hurt any less.

 

As time went by, his heart forgave the betrayal, and to this day, Dean knows he can count on the angel.

 

He always comes when he's called. He does everything Dean asks of him.

 

He's defied Heaven itself for Dean's sake.

 

It should be no surprise that Dean fell for someone who went to such lengths for him.

 

There are times when a small voice whispers to him that maybe Castiel loves him. It says that nobody would forsake their entire family and belief system for a mere friend.

 

Dean pushes that voice away, his own self loathing refusing to let him believe it, no matter how desperately it fans the flame of his hope.

 

Why would anyone see anything in him worth loving?

 

Heaven saved him because they had a purpose for him, not because he was worth anything. He tells himself Cas saves him, time and again, because he's still loyal to his original order.

 

_Save the righteous man._

 

He doesn't feel particularly righteous now.

 

He punches the dashboard, furious with himself for continuing to cry.

 

He's miserable, and he just wants to cry the feeling out of his body so he can drive back to the motel and get some sleep. Nobody needs to know he's in love, especially not Sam – _especially_ not Cas

 

He sniffles, and lets out a sigh.

 

“God, I'm pathetic,” he mutters.

 

Just to wring the last of these wretched emotions from himself, he lets himself imagine what it would be like.

 

He imagines everything he had with Lisa – a nice house, a yard, a garage for his baby – but he sees Castiel's face, blue eyes crinkling at the corners when he walks in.

 

“ _Hello Dean_ ,” he says, the two words that Dean finds the most comforting in the world. Those words mean his angel is close, that he's happy to see him.

 

Dean leans his head back against his seat, eyes closed, and imagines what their bedroom would be like. Would Cas hog the covers, or maybe snore? Maybe he'll just stay awake all night, listening to Dean's breath rise and fall, reading a book to while away the hours until Dean awakens. He sees himself cooking popcorn in a real kitchen, then sitting down to a Star Wars marathon with Cas by his side. Those blue eyes would be so wide, confused by the plot-line, or maybe just the bizarre aliens. It's all too perfect.

 

He feels a tear slip down his cheek.

 

That's the worst part of all this. His imagination supplies such sweet images, thoughts that make Dean homesick for something he's never had, for a security and warmth he hasn't felt since he was six years old.

 

“Hello Dean.”

 

He curses under his breath.

 

He's getting too good at imagining the life he wants and can't have. Those words sounded too real. There's no point in tormenting himself with dreams that will never come to be.

 

He wipes his eyes on his sleeve, and stops mid-gesture.

 

Castiel is sitting in the passenger seat, holding the box of cassettes that had fallen earlier.

 

“Your music is in disarray,” the angel says, making Dean break into weak laughter.

 

“Yeah, Cas It is,” he agrees.

 

Instead of replying, the angel reaches out, brushing away a tear from Dean's cheek with his thumb. Dean's breath hitches in his throat, and he feels his heart doing that familiar swell.

 

Damn it.

 

“Dean, what's wrong?” Castiel asks, and the hunter's mind short circuits with an overload of everything he wants to say.

 

He swallows, moistening his suddenly too dry lips.

 

The urge to tell is almost overwhelming, but his self loathing wins out for now.

 

Save the one you love.

 

Don't tell him.

 

Save him from you.

 

“Crying like a bitch because I dropped my music,” he says, but the smile he gives Cas is a little too hollow, too artificially sardonic. He knows the angel will see through it.

 

Cas tilts his head, and Dean has to fight back the surge of joy that simple gesture provokes in his heart.

 

“I will never understand you, Dean Winchester,” he says finally.

 

Dean gives a humorless chuckle, and stares out the windshield.

 

“Neither will I, Cas. Neither will I.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
